Poems May 2018

Air & water

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The aquarium’s a bit emptier each day. Along the glass, a crust grows cloudier Toward the always-nearing bottom. Plastic Transylvanian towers and archway Rise like volcanic islands above murkier Depths, where a cochlear snail nestles in scum. A Golden Comet and Fantail, two Small fish, swim in ever-lessening space. Memoryless, they move without history, Gulp at floating feces, wriggle through Ribs of a sunken galleon, poke at bloated shapes Of ones that float, half breathing, or already Dead. They think it’s always been this way, Crammed in their foggy phlegm. The tank’s Floor is packed with pebbles, rainbow-stained Like puffs of cereal, snowed over by decay, Sloughed scales, lost fins. The golden flanks Of those alive still glint in the nearly drained Tank. They thrash each other for space. Today, Water’s lower. It’s always been this way.

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